Don's Two Weeks from Hell
by Rinne
Summary: It all started out innocently enough, just a series of bad days, but by day six his team were starting to try to guess how he'd next manage to hurt himself and Don was realising that nowhere was safe. Don/Robin. COMPLETE
1. Day 1

Title: Don's Two Weeks from Hell  
Genre: Het  
Pairings: Don/Robin  
Characters: Don, Robin, David, Colby, Liz, Nikki, Alan  
Rating: PG-13  
Warnings: Some medium level swearing, violence  
Spoilers: Season 6 of Numb3rs, set during season 6.  
Word count: 158 (this part) (~6100 words total)  
Disclaimer: Own nothing, not being paid.  
A/N: Each day uses a prompt from hurt_don and one 'day' will be posted per day. Thanks to aleo for reading through as I was writing. Thank you to starrylizard and lilacs_roses for the beta. Thank you to little_details for some help with Day 4.

Prompt: hurt_don #1 What: firework, Where: park

* * *

It all started out innocently enough, just a series of bad days, but by day six his team were starting to try to guess how he'd next manage to hurt himself and Don was realising that nowhere was safe.

Day 1

There was a bang off to his side and he turned to look. He should have stopped running instead of just slowing, that would have been the intelligent thing, particularly when he couldn't initially spot what had caused it. The second bang and the flash of colour that confirmed that it was fireworks, and therefore nothing to worry about, came just as he hit the tree branch.

It was at chest level and was solid enough to floor him, sending him crashing to the leaf litter and hard ground, still wondering what exactly had happened.

David and Colby found him lying on the ground, rubbing his chest and trying to regain his breath, a minute later. The slight grin as Colby looked at Don and then the tree branch told Don that he'd put two and two together. Don resolved to make sure that he actually looked where he was going the next time he was chasing somebody.

TBC...


	2. Day 2

Prompt: hurt_don #2 What: car Where: road

Day 2

Chasing somebody across a multiple lane road was never fun. They always made it look easy in the movies, but it never was so in real life. The multiple adrenaline hits as each car was successfully negotiated always took a toll and were not enjoyable. Add in the suspect having a gun and deciding to use the traffic as cover to take pot shots at him, and Don decided it was damned near the worst it could be.

Then a male driver, who didn't look old enough to be behind the wheel, freaked out when he saw Don's gun and swerved into another lane to get away from him. The driver next to him accelerated to avoid being hit and it started a domino effect of horns and fast manoeuvring that left Don feeling sick to his stomach as he did his best to avoid the oncoming cars. The only thing he could do was make for the side of the road and safety. He'd almost made it when he saw the sedan bearing down on him. The driver had hit the brakes hard and Don could see the frantic look of fear on the woman's face. Don had one moment of perfect clarity and knew that he couldn't get to safety in time. It was going to hit him. Even so, he attempted to put on a burst of speed, hoping that he could minimise the damage that the car was going to do to him.

He'd almost made it to the side of the road when the slowing car clipped him on the hip, sending him tumbling forwards and sideways, nudging him onto the embankment and out of the path of any further damage. He rolled several times, before coming to a stop with a groan, lying on his front. There was a sharp ache coming from his hip; he could taste dirt and he could already feel the pain from the gravel rash on his face and hands.

As much as he wanted to stay still, he knew he couldn't. Nothing felt broken and there was an armed suspect running around. Fortune favoured him when he limped up to a standing position. The traffic had snarled and his suspect, assuming that Don was out of action, had stopped and acted like a concerned citizen to blend in. The man was just turning away to leave when Don, ignoring the man who was trying to tell him that he needed to sit down till the ambulance arrived and the woman—the one who'd hit him—having hysterics a few feet away, aimed his gun and shouted out, "FBI! Do not move."

The man froze and slowly put his hands up and Don grimly limped over and handcuffed him. Don might not have admitted it, but he was relieved when LAPD turned up two minutes later and he could get them to hold his prisoner while he sat down.

Who knew that getting hit by a car hurt so much?

On second thought, he decided that it should have been damn obvious.

TBC...


	3. Day 3

Prompt: hurt_don #3 What: Book Where: Charlie's Office

Day 3

Don was getting stared at in the hall to Charlie's office. He knew that he looked terrible, gravel grazes that were particularly bad on one cheek and he was limping, but that didn't mean everybody needed to stare. Keeping his expression impassive and trying to pretend that his hip didn't ache like a son of a bitch from the bruise the size of Alaska on it, he walked into Charlie's office.

And right into Charlie.

Who was carrying a large stack of library books.

That hit said hip.

And then were dropped on his foot.

David had jokingly suggested that going to see Charlie would keep him out of trouble. Apparently he was wrong.

Don didn't bother with trying to restrain his swearing.


	4. Day 4

Prompt: hurt_don #4 What: Magic Where: Graveyard

Day 4

There was something about cemeteries that Don liked. They were peaceful, somehow, even though they told of the inevitability of how life was going to end. So, it didn't bother him too much to be looking for a weapon and cash that had been dumped somewhere in the area. It wasn't like they had to search the entire place, just a specific area, which happened to be in the older and less maintained part of the cemetery. Admittedly, the pain from his hip was making walking difficult, but it hurt when he sat down too, so it didn't particularly matter.

As he searched, Don took the time to read the words left to honour the dead. Some were beautiful, others profound, and, some few, funny. The dirt next to the partially caved-in concrete cover of a grave, one of the few graves that had concrete covering the coffin area, crumbled under his foot as Don took a step, a huge hole opening up, and he stumbled. With his foot sucked into the blackness, he ended up on his ass, jarring everything that was already hurt. He was fairly certain that he'd wrenched his ankle and scraped his leg on the sharp edges of the concrete, even through his pants. Before he attempted to extricate himself he took a moment to take a deep breath and calm himself. The series of unfortunate events that were leaving him bruised and scraped was starting to get ridiculous. As he did so, he read the words on the grave that had decided to try to eat him and had to snort.

_All the magic has gone out of the world now that you are no longer here._

"I don't know about that," he muttered to himself. "You definitely tried to make me disappear."


	5. Day 5

Prompt: hurt_don #5 What: Earthquake Where: California

Day 5

The day had been blissful.

_So far,_ the pessimistic part of Don's brain warned.

With a sore ankle and hip, he'd taken the day off to recover. Okay, if he were being honest, his team had practically shoved him out the door the previous evening and ordered him not to come in to work for two days: something David had already cleared with the ADIC. After taking some painkillers the previous night, he'd been able to sleep in, not even hearing Robin's alarm when it went off. Then he'd lazed around, watched some TV and read a book, finally finishing the one that he'd been slowly getting through. He never had much time to read for pleasure with the caseload that he had.

Don got up off the sofa that he'd been lying on and padded over in bare feet to his book shelf, wincing at each step. Replacing the book that he'd just finished, he skimmed the shelves for something else to read. He wasn't sure what he was in the mood for and had a fairly large range to choose from. There were old favourites as well as those that he'd bought but hadn't had time to read yet. There was also a quarter of a shelf that Robin had taken over that had some of her law books as well as a few novels.

A rumbling started up and he could feel the room starting to shake, clinking noises coming from the kitchen. An earthquake—one of the perks of living in California. Most were small—just rattling things—but, occasionally, there was something bigger. This was going to be one of the bigger ones and, just as Don started to turn away from the bookshelf, ready to head to the nearest doorway, the intensity of the earthquake increased and his bookshelf shuddered.

Don had only a second to think, "Oh shit," before the piece of furniture started falling and he was being hit by books and the solid wood of the shelves.

What he was fairly certain were his law and justice books—at the right height on the shelf and the right weight—nailed him in the groin as he was driven to the floor, shorting his brain out with the pain for a minute or two. He'd heard more than one person say that the justice system was like a kick to the balls, and now he had to agree.

Once he came back to his senses, he found that pretty much everything hurt; which was a good thing, as it meant he probably didn't have any spinal injuries. And it wasn't the damp hurt which indicated that he was bleeding heavily anywhere, either. Of course, he couldn't rule out internal injuries as he had been pelted hard by the falling books and the heavy shelf.

Everything below shoulder level was trapped under the shelving unit, so Don did his best to try to push it off him, but it wouldn't budge. Then Don tried to push down against the floor and slide out from underneath it, but that wasn't working either.

His phone wasn't on his belt; it was across the room beside the sofa. Maybe one of his neighbours was home. Don shouted for help for several minutes and then waited. There was no sound of anybody knocking on his door, there was nothing. Which meant he had to wait until one of his neighbours got home, or somebody came by—likely Robin. And that might not be for hours, what with it only being early afternoon.

Don sighed and closed his eyes. The ringing of his phone some time later woke him. He hadn't even realised that he'd dozed off. It rang out and then a couple of minutes later rang again. After that it remained silent and he sighed again. Maybe help was on its way or maybe not. It was probably more likely that whoever was calling would just get frustrated with him not answering than try to investigate why he wasn't answering. His eyes slid shut again and sometime later he fell back into sleep. He'd been tired despite sleeping in, his sleep debt too much to be fixed with one good night of rest, and it wasn't like there was anything else he could do.

* * *

Fingers on his neck and a voice saying his name abruptly pulled him out of sleep sometime later. He opened his eyes to see David leaning over him, a worried look on his face.

"Don, you with me man?" David asked.

Don blinked a few times, trying to wake up fully. "Uh, yeah." He laughed ruefully. "I was asleep." He could hear Colby off to his other side, talking on his cell.

David's eyebrows rose. "This happen when the earthquake hit?"

"Yeah. The shelf was too heavy for me to move by myself. I don't think it did too much damage though, I can still feel everything." And move everything, within the limited space, although one foot had pins and needles when he did.

"The ambulance is on its way," Colby said, appearing on his other side. "We gonna try to move this thing?"

"I don't need an ambulance," Don protested.

"We'll let them be the judge of that," David said.

With the two of them, it only took a minute to move the bookshelf off to the side so that it wasn't on top of Don anymore, although he'd been hit with a few more books that fell out. In the scheme of things, that didn't matter too much. Don obeyed David's order of not trying to move and let them shift the books off him.

After he had his shower the next morning, having been released from the hospital after they'd determined that he was fine, he groaned slightly when he looked at himself in the mirror. He was covered with bruises, more bruises, and scrapes and scratches. His run of bad luck had to be at an end, right?


	6. Day 6

Prompt: hurt_don #6 What: menorah Where: synagogue/temple

Day 6

Don went to temple, figuring he needed some time for peaceful contemplation. And maybe to talk to the Rabbi.

It didn't quite go to plan as there was an aftershock when he was standing next to the menorah. It rocked, started to fall, and he reflexively reached out to stop it. In the process of saving it from falling, he hit the fingers on his right hand, hard.

As he tried to shake away the pain afterwards, he realised two things. One, nowhere was safe for him at the moment, and two, God seemed to have a sense of humour.


	7. Day 7

Prompt: hurt_don #7 What: drugs Where: warehouse

Day 7

Don hadn't been a part of the actual raid, having decided that it would be stupid and dangerous for him and his team, considering how much he was still limping and hurting. But, with five of the men involved in the drug manufacturing in custody, he'd joined the rest of his team in the warehouse to go through what they'd found. It was a fairly big operation, bigger than what they'd expected, so Don was extremely happy that the raid had gone as well as it had.

He was checking one of the myriad of rooms in the warehouse when he grunted in satisfaction at finding part of the money stash. There were footsteps behind him and he started to say, "Hey, guess what I've fou—"

A blow to the back of the head stopped him mid-word, causing him to stumble, off balance. Another impact sent him to his hands and knees, followed quickly by a kick to the chest that left him curled in pain on the floor. Something crashed against the side of his head and he was out for the count.

* * *

Groaning, he regained consciousness a couple of minutes later, bringing his hand to his throbbing head to find blood on his face.

"What happened?" he murmured, pushing himself off the floor and grimacing when it sent pain throughout his chest. His right hand rubbed lightly at the sore area. He looked around and the first thing he noticed was that the money he'd been looking at was gone. The FBI windbreaker and baseball-type cap that he'd been wearing were also gone. Brain fully kicking into gear, he pulled himself off the floor and ran to the door, ignoring the complaints of his body. He headed towards the exit, attracting the attention of Colby and David who followed him as he flew past the rooms they were looking at. Seeing a figure running in the distance once he got outside, Don pointed at it.

"You missed one."


	8. Day 8

A/N: My favourite day of the lot...  
Prompt: hurt_don #8 What: ice Where: outdoors

Day 8

Don opened the door to his apartment and stepped inside with a shiver.

"Don! What are you doing home so early?" Robin asked, her disembodied voice coming from somewhere out of sight. She finally appeared and he just stood in the doorway, not having the energy to move yet. Her eyes slowly scanned his body and she licked her lips.

"There was a storm," Don said, knowing that he sounded pathetic. "It hailed."

It hadn't been small hail either, as the sore spots on the top of his head and shoulders would attest. He was still soaked to the bone, despite having cranked the heating in his SUV. He'd given Nikki the jacket that he kept in the car, considering how soaked her blouse had become. She'd been dropped off at her apartment so that she could dry off, just like he was intending to, before he picked her up and they continued to the office.

Robin's expression had switched from lust to concern and she gestured towards his bathroom. "Go, I'll get you a change of clothes."

His shoes squelched as he obeyed. When he got into the bathroom, he saw himself in the mirror and finally got her initial reaction. His white dress shirt was completely soaked through, almost transparent and clinging to his skin, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. His hair was starting to dry and was curling every which way. And his pants were also rather obscenely clinging to his legs, ass and groin.

If he wasn't feeling so cold, wet, sore and tired he'd have asked Robin to help him undress and join him in the shower. It would have been one way to warm up.

Instead, he sighed and started undoing the buttons on the shirt. Robin appeared a moment later, a bundle of clothes in her hands. She turned the shower on to warm up and took over. Her hands were gentle as she helped him out of the clothes, the skin around her mouth tightening as she saw his bruises again, nothing sexual in her touches and actions. Once he was naked she gave him a soft kiss on the lips and left the room.

Stepping under the warm water was pure bliss. If only he could stay there forever.


	9. Day 9

Prompt: hurt_don #9 What: explosion Where: crime scene

Day 9

The murder was brutal and Don would have loved to have been able to erase the image from his mind. The violence was increasing and the time between killings was getting shorter. Although, in this case they only had the one body to deal with—the previous dumping ground had contained three bodies. That didn't fit with the pattern. Unless...

"Everyone out!" he shouted, getting up from his crouch. "Now!"

There was grumbling and the non-agents were slow to respond, which fanned the fear that was rising from his gut even more. He joined Liz, who was arguing with one woman, and, not even bothering with words, simply pulled the woman up from the floor and pushed her towards the door. If he was wrong, he'd apologise later and take whatever rap over the knuckles and rant he got without a word of protest. If he was right, it wouldn't be an issue.

"Hey, ow!" the woman complained, rubbing her arm but now moving. Don dismissed her from his mind, looking around once more. Everyone was leaving, heading out the door. He started following, the last to leave—as it should be—and was at the door when his fear proved itself real. There was a massive explosion behind him, and he was thrown forward by the pressure wave into some of the people who were still milling around the entrance, knocking them down like bowling pins. He landed hard on his right shoulder, his head coming to rest on someone's back.

Liz appeared above him. "Hey, you all right?"

"I'm alive," Don replied drily.

She shook her head. "I don't know what you saw, Don, but man, am I glad you saw it."


	10. Day 10

Prompt: hurt_don #10 What: motorcycle Where: highway

Day 10

Don's day had been going well. No new hurts to add to the collection, his hip was finally at the point of barely bothering him and he was back to walking without a limp. Yeah, his shoulder and his head still hurt and his ribs were still tender, but things were looking up. So much so that he decided to take his motorcycle out for a spin to clear his head. His hip had prevented him from doing that before, when the ride would have really helped after all the crap he'd been through over the previous nine days.

He could feel himself gradually relaxing as he got out of LA and onto open roads, the wind rushing past, the stars and moon his only companions.

Until his shoulder started complaining, cramping with the way he was hunched forward.

He ignored it initially, but after a while he couldn't, having to pull over to the side of the road and get off. He flopped down onto the ground and massaged it with his other hand, hissing slightly as pain flared from the bruising. Ten minutes later he got back on his motorcycle with a sigh. He could have called Robin and asked her to meet him. She could have ridden his bike back while he drove the SUV. It would have been easier on his shoulder, but his natural stubbornness won out and he rode home.


	11. Day 11

A/N: Thank you to the anon reviewers! Every review is greatly appreciated.  
Prompt: hurt_don #11 What: candlestick Where: dining room

Day 11

"Miss Griffiths! Please!"

Another plate hit the wall above his head, shattering on impact and showering Don with shards, and he ducked back down behind the sofa.

"When can we start shooting?" Nikki asked him, wincing as a plastic cup rebounded off the wall and hit her on the back of the head.

"Not until she starts with the knives," Don replied, only half-jesting.

They'd finally managed to get one of the men involved in the drug manufacturing to talk and he'd given up the sixth member of their party, the one who'd knocked Don out and taken off with the money. On the off chance that he'd been stupid enough to hang around LA, the agents had decided to talk to his girlfriend, who had, unfortunately, not taken kindly to the insinuation that her boyfriend could be anything less than an admirable guy.

She had also, apparently, been somewhat of an athlete during her recent college days, with her main events being shot put, javelin and discus. She hadn't even needed to go to her kitchen to find objects to throw at them: her dining room having a large china cabinet filled with dinnerware.

Unfortunately, Don didn't see the candlestick coming his way, lobbed so perfectly it wouldn't hit the wall. Nikki saw it at the last moment but it was too late to stop it from hitting him on the back of the neck and head and Don was on the floor, groaning.

"Don, you okay?"

Don brought his right hand around to the back of his neck and hissed as he pressed gently. It felt wet, he was definitely bleeding.

"She threw a fucking candlestick! That's it, I've had enough." There was shuffling beside him as Nikki got into position and aimed her gun at the woman. "Put it down, Miss Griffiths, or I'll shoot you. I said, put it down, now! Put your hands behind your head." There was a pause as Nikki finally stood up. "Don, you going to be okay for a minute while I handcuff her?"

"Yeah," Don breathed out. It wasn't like he wasn't used to this by now...


	12. Day 12

Prompt: hurt_don #12 What: Taser Where: Police Precinct

A/N: This part is a crossover with "The Closer" (Spoilers for season 5), although absolutely zero knowledge of it is needed. I just couldn't resist crossing over with a show centred on the LAPD, considering the prompt. Brenda is played by Kyra Sedgwick, who won an Emmy for the role this year.

Day 12

"I have a guaranteed murder, Agent Eppes. All you have is supposition and suspicion. Why should I hand Mr Matthews over to the FBI?"

Don felt like he was going around in circles. He knew that Deputy Chief Brenda Lee Johnson of LAPD's Major Crimes was a force to be reckoned with, which was why he'd come to talk to her himself. Hell, he knew of at least one case where she hadn't even played nice with her own husband, making Special Agent Fritz Howard of the FBI look like a complete imbecile. There had been more than a few who had predicted that it would be the end to the couple and Howard would call off their engagement, however, they'd made it through to get married, it seemed.

"Don't the other people who've lost loved ones deserve to know what happened to them, Chief Johnson?"

She stopped on the other side of the hallway and faced him, serious. "Yes, they do. _But_—"

She was interrupted when a white man, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, ran between them.

Don could hear the sounds of raised voices and running footsteps from around the corner where the man had just come from. Figuring that the running footsteps were likely in pursuit of the man that had run past them, Don joined the chase.

He started running down the corridor after the man and heard Deputy Chief Johnson call after him, "Well, that's fine; go right ahead then, doing our job for us. Just like always, the FBI can't keep their noses out of our business, even in our own precinct."

Then there was pain as it felt like all the muscles in his body were cramping and he fell to the floor, flat on his face, unable to move or do anything to stop it. After a few seconds, the pain from whatever had happened blessedly stopped and he felt like he could move again, only for the pain from his likely broken nose, split lip and bruised face to assert itself.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Chief Johnson said loudly, annoyed. "You tased the wrong one! This is Special Agent Eppes, supervisor of the FBI Violent Crimes Squad, not some criminal! I'm so sorry, Agent Eppes. Well, don't just stand there, unhook it!"

He'd been shot with a taser. Well, he could now honestly say that he never wanted to be tased again.

Don thought about the man that he'd seen run past. There was a passing resemblance between him and the man and they were both wearing jeans and a t-shirt, so that probably explained why the LAPD had mistaken him for their perp. Although Don would really rather that they hadn't.

Chief Johnson knelt down beside him and made a distressed sound once she saw the blood. "Call for an ambulance, Officer. Agent Eppes, I want to say again, on behalf of the entire LAPD, how sorry I am." There was silence for a second and then she added, "But this doesn't mean you can have Graham Matthews, he's still ours."

At that moment, Don didn't give a shit about Graham Matthews; LAPD could have him.


	13. Day 13

Prompt: hurt_don #13 What: Alcohol Where: Party

Day 13

Don could feel Robin's eyes on him as he adjusted his collar.

"You don't have to go."

"What, and leave you to deal with Miles Kennedy on your own?" He turned towards her in time to catch her mock-shudder. The guy wouldn't leave Robin alone, particularly at these sorts of formal events. Unfortunately nothing that the man had done was enough for Robin to report him for sexual harassment, he was just a world class creep.

"I don't have to go, either."

"It's important; you have to go," Don contradicted her. "I'll be okay. I mean, hey, looking like this," he gestured at his face, the swelling and bruising from his fall after being tased wasn't pretty, "maybe Miles will stay away from you all night." He scanned up and down her body and grinned. "Then again, wearing that, maybe not."

Robin gave him a slightly panicked look. "Maybe I should change..."

That reaction was out of proportion to his comment and made him wonder whether anything more had been going on. "Hey, no, you look gorgeous and that creep shouldn't make you change what you're going to wear. Has he been bothering you more lately?"

She shrugged, but wouldn't quite meet his eyes. "Not really. He's just been hanging around more."

"Want me to bring my gun?" Don asked, his tone serious.

"I have one of my own that I can take if I need to, Don," she replied, just as serious, warning him that she didn't need him to protect her.

"The offer's on the table," Don said lightly. He headed to the bathroom to check his appearance one last time and heard Robin follow. The face he pulled when he first saw himself in the mirror couldn't be helped; normally he looked good in a tux.

"Some make up could cover some of that bruising."

He didn't deign Robin's comment with a reply and she grinned at him in the mirror. "Ready to go?" he asked.

* * *

He'd been right. They were getting stared at, and it wasn't because of how amazing Robin looked. On the other hand, Miles Kennedy had stayed away from them, after giving Don what he could only regard as a glare. He'd just stared back mildly until Miles had broken eye contact.

There was plenty of food and alcohol and Don wandered around the room as Robin mingled with the people she needed to, eating something he couldn't quite identify wrapped in pastry. Whatever it was, it tasted pretty good.

Raised voices some time later in the evening had him turning in their direction and making his way across the room towards them. He could see that the two men having the argument were both agitated and probably drunk. When one shoved and the other pushed back, and no one else moved to intervene—a room full of lawyers and city officials, not a huge surprise to the agent—Don hurried the final few yards, not wanting to see it degenerate into a brawl.

"Hey," Don said, loud enough to be heard over the arguing men. "Calm down, both of you. Whatever the problem is, I'm sure you can sort it out without yelling or shoving each other."

The man on the left looked down his nose at Don, his breath leaving no question in Don's mind that if he held a lighter near the man's mouth it would produce a fireball from the alcohol fumes alone.

"Who..." The man wobbled a bit, and brought his finger up to poke at Don's chest with each word. "Do you think...you are? Min' your own...business."

Don gave him a tight smile. "I'm a federal agent." He looked down at the finger still resting against his chest. "And that's called assault."

"Ohhhhhhhhh...I'm so scared," the man mocked. "Wait...you're the guy tha' Brooks is fuckin', aren't you?"

Don slowly counted down from ten in his head to keep his temper under control. He could see that some of the 'spectators' were starting to get uncomfortable, shifting uneasily.

"Don?" Robin's voice came from behind him and she sounded worried.

"An' there she is...comin' to-comin' to the big...bad FBI agent's res'ue."

It really wasn't worth decking the guy, Don told himself. It really wasn't. There'd be paperwork.

"Watch your mouth," Don warned, his voice quiet.

The man's punch was telegraphed clearly and it wasn't hard for Don to use his momentum to get the guy's arm twisted up behind his back. Unfortunately, the other drunk, the man to Don's right, apparently objected to the man he'd been arguing with being restrained. Having not seen it coming, Don couldn't block the reasonably solid punch to his face. His right eye tearing and throbbing, he turned, dragging the idiot he'd restrained with him between himself and the man who had just assaulted him; holding him there until the security for the venue finally approached.

Sitting on Robin's bed later that night, holding a bag of frozen vegetables against his face, he had to wonder when it would all stop.

He was sick and tired of getting hurt.


	14. Day 14

A/N: And we're at the end, other than a missing scene from an earlier day which I'll post tomorrow. Hope you've enjoyed the ride, I certainly have. ;-)

Prompt: hurt_don #14 What: Poison Where: FBI Office

Day 14

Finished with the lunch that David and Colby had thoughtfully provided him with, Don dumped the plastic container in a trash can and got back to work. He'd made it in to the office without incident, although his black eye had elicited comments from his entire team. Explaining that one had made Don more than a little uncomfortable, especially when he'd gotten the expected laughter at his expense.

He was planning to stay in the office, sitting at his desk where there were no criminals or inebriated lawyers to run into—it should, hopefully, be safe. Papercuts he could deal with. He was determinedly not thinking about the time that the entire floor had been shot up.

The sudden and sharp pain in his gut had him grimacing and resting his right hand on his stomach. It died down and he shrugged it off, getting back to work until a few minutes later when there was another pain, duller than the first. Something he'd eaten didn't seem to be agreeing with him. It was okay, though, a stomach ache he could live with.

Five minutes later, however, he abruptly pushed his chair back and ran for the restroom, hand over his mouth, only just making it into one of the stalls before he was throwing up.

_Not just a stomach ache. Food poisoning. Just great._ He was going to kill David and Colby.

The vomiting and pain seemed to continue on and on, even when he was sure that there had to be nothing left in his stomach to throw up.

"Don. Oh, man, you, uh, you okay?"

_Yes, David. Of course I'm fine, I was just hanging over a toilet bowl for the fun of it._

"Food poisoning," he grunted out, swallowing a few times to try to get his stomach to settle. It wasn't really working. "Where the hell did you and Colby buy my lunch?"

"Buy your lunch? Don, we didn't buy your lunch."

"Well, somebody did. It was sitting on my desk."

Liz and Nikki were out of the office, he'd presumed that David and Colby had brought it when they came back in. He tried to press the button to flush the toilet, the smell really not helping with the nausea, but his hand missed it. It took three attempts before he got it and he staggered up against the wall of the stall, his legs suddenly feeling a bit too weak to support him and his head spinning.

_This isn't normal,_ he thought, starting to feel a bit alarmed.

"Don!"

There was a hand on his arm, but it didn't stop him from hitting the floor, his muscles feeling like jelly.

"Oh, man, your pupils... I'm going to call an ambulance, Don. I think your food might have been poisoned."

Poisoned? David had to be kidding. He was in the FBI building. There were cameras. Who would be stupid enough to try to poison him?

"Hey, stay awake, Don. You have to stay awake."

Was he falling asleep? He must be.

A particularly strong pain blazed through his gut and he let out what sounded like a yelp. The air felt like it was getting thick and harder to push in and out of his chest. He couldn't help it, he was too tired...

* * *

"You're finally awake!"

Don blearily looked at Alan. "Yeah, I guess I am." His voice sounded rough and there was something irritating his nose. He was lying down and was in a hospital bed. Again. "What happened?"

He could remember throwing up and David thinking he'd been...poisoned? But it was pretty much a blank after that.

"You scared us, is what happened. You were poisoned."

Okay, so he hadn't remembered that part wrong. But who had access to the office and would have wanted to poison him?

"Who?"

"Somebody who works with Robin, Kennedy, I think his last name was."

That woke him right up. "Miles Kennedy poisoned me?" His voice rose in pitch as he got each word out. The guy was a creep, but it was a big step up to poison someone. It sounded like his obsession with Robin had gotten the better of him and he'd decided to take one of the obstacles out. It explained the mystery lunch on his desk, Kennedy would have had access to the building.

"Yeah. Apparently he used the seeds from a plant in his garden. Laburnum, I think it was called. They look like peas. Luckily for you they weren't as poisonous as his research led him to believe. You were pretty sick for a while there, but you'll be okay now."

Don sighed and brought his right hand up to his eyes, wincing when he touched his nose and right eye. He'd forgotten about that. Shaking his head back and forth on the pillow he said, "I can't believe someone poisoned me."

"You and me both," Alan replied.

Don raised his eyes briefly heavenward.

_Uh, God, if you're out there? You've had your fun, please leave me alone now._

_Thanks,_ he added as an afterthought.

Only time would tell what tomorrow would bring...

-FIN-

_Stay tuned for a long fic (100,000 words) coming up sometime in November, probably, centred on Don (of course). It'll be rated M for some of its themes._


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